


Service Provider

by unmurdered



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Glenn Cullen deserves love, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Seduction, Some in-character bashing of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmurdered/pseuds/unmurdered
Summary: In which there is an unexpected reward for Glenn Cullen at the end of another tedious DoSAC day.





	Service Provider

**Author's Note:**

> The Glenn Cullen office seduction fic that probably nobody asked for, heh.This ended up a LOT more lemony and less sweetly slapstick than I initially intended. Please don't judge me!

The worst thing about Chloe's last day in DoSAC was that it wasn't even her worst day there. Sure, there had been a cockup with a press release, but it wasn't even an original one ("pubic" instead of "public"? Like the Mail hadn't seen that one before). And sure, Terri had made one of her snide comments about Chloe's outfit. And, Phil had tried to come on to her yet again by negging her in the kitchen over her choice of herbal tea and granola-based snack. Chloe wasn't ashamed to admit she was a pretty sexual being, but she was fairly certain she would rather powder her face with Anthrax than shag Phil. Which she communicated to him in as many words.

And, of course, her computer had crashed halfway through the day, taking all her soul-crushingly boring and painstaking statistics work with it and forcing her to stay late to redo it. 

It wasn't like there'd been a goodbye party for the latest intern, anyway - just a generic card signed by a few of the usual suspects. To be honest, what made her last day not the worst day was that Chloe rather preferred to spend it working away in silence than trying to be friendly with the fuckwits she'd been working with.

How awful they could so often be, with their insults and their backstabbing and their lack of morality. They weren't even just awful with her, they were awful with everyone and most of all with each other. Cynical Peter, pompous Phil, ruthless Emma, slimy Fergus-and-Adam, complacent Terri, depressed Glenn.

Actually, that last one wasn't so bad. After all, Glenn was depressed for quite a good reason: the disintegration of his life's dreams and principles. And he didn't really take it out on everyone else - it was more the other way around. Jibes about his age and obsolescence and supposed inability to get an erection. He was like an office punching-bag, only more deflated. 

She had actually got a little annoyed a couple of times at some of the more merciless comments about his lack of a home life – it didn’t seem sporting, like it was to insult Adam for being a Murdochian bottom-feeder and an arsehole to boot. Because Adam was not basically human, and Glenn was. Of course, she’d never said anything to stop it, because how much worse would it have got if the intern had tried to fight his fights for him? 

Glenn might be the only halfway decent person in the office, she thought. And unlike her, he didn't get to leave tomorrow. She'd be off tomorrow to parties and drinks and holidays with her friends while she figured out what to do next with her life, and he'd be stuck here, at the bottom of the pecking order till a likely early stress-induced death.

Chloe considered. A wild idea was beginning to take shape, born out of sheer boredom, and rebelliousness, and a bit of loneliness, and a desire to do one memorable, maybe worthwhile thing before leaving this hellhole. She looked around her computer as it booted down, checking her earlier perception that she and Glenn were the only two people left in the office that evening. 

Sure enough, she could see the top of his greying head behind his computer. God knew what he was doing here, unless his computer had also crashed. Maybe he just didn't want to go home. 

Whatever. It wasn't as important as what he was going to be doing soon. Namely: her.

Chloe got up out of her chair and smoothed down her short A-line skirt. She checked her reflection in the black screen of her monitor: lipstick intact, hair looking good, tight blouse with the top two buttons undone. Perfect. She sauntered away from her desk, stopping beside Glenn's chair.

"Ah, hello!" Glenn swivelled in his chair to face her; a little absently, still glancing at whatever pointless thing he was doing on his computer. "Finally leaving this place, are we? Can't say I blame you. I'd leave too but it's like Stockholm Syndrome, only even less comprehensible to non-psychologists and the clinically sound of mind."

He glanced back at her, a polite smile on his sadsack face that faded as soon as he caught the predatory expression on hers. His familiar, nasal voice uncertain, he asked, "Chloe? Are you quite alright? Can I help you -"

The words died in Glenn's throat when he saw what Chloe's fingers were doing: unbuttoning the next button of her blouse, and then the next, revealing a generous amount of her lace-cupped cleavage. He sat, open-mouthed, visibly confused.

Chloe smirked as she continued to undo button after button, slowly; she saw his eyes snap down to follow the movement. "It's more a question of whether I can help you, Glenn. I've been here for three months and I can say this is the worst collection of people I've ever met, and that includes everyone who was with me in Year 9 P.E. class. You're the only one here who isn't a total shit. Frankly, you deserve a good fuck for that. If you're amenable, of course."

Glenn let out a little gasp. He still seemed unable to speak, though his reddening ears and the already noticeable bulge in his trousers told her he had taken it all in. So much for supposed impotence.

"I'll take that as a yes, shall I?”

Shrugging off her now fully open blouse, Chloe eased herself on to his lap, straddling him in her pleated skirt, and put her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his crumpled shirt. He felt soft and comfortable - well, except one part of him - and was now breathing heavily, face flushed and eyes wide. He made no move to touch her, but no move to remove her, either.

Chloe recalled an amusing tidbit that had been circulated around the office many times regarding Glenn's own ready admission that his sex life (or lack thereof) was solely internet-based.

She looked him right in the eyes, and said, "Let me be your service provider. Just for one night.”

Then, she crushed her mouth to his.

It took him a moment to react, as if he still couldn't believe this was happening to him. Then he reciprocated, kissing her back with clumsy desperation, his hands coming to hold on to her slim sides, hesitantly. Even as his tongue slipped into her mouth, Chloe rolled her eyes, taking hold of his rough, aged hands and placing them squarely on her breasts.

"Oh, dear Lord," he finally managed to utter, before squeezing them and snogging her even harder. Chloe ran her own hands over his short grey hair, mussing it up as much as she could while he groaned into her mouth and fondled her. The office chair was already quaking beneath them.

Time to move it to the next level. She ran her hands quickly down over his shoulders, his soft warm sides, to the worn material of his trousers. She could feel him twitching restlessly beneath her as she rapidly began to unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. Glenn was wearing y-fronts, because of course he was. 

She got off him. Glenn let go a brief whimper of loss, quieted immediately when he saw what she was doing next. She perched herself on his desk, and quickly shimmied down her lace knickers: he watched them like a man drowning as they were flung to one side, then his eyes returned to her, and widened even further when he saw her reach behind her back and unsnap her bra. That, too, was dropped on the floor. 

Chloe was sitting on his DoSAC desk in nothing more than a short, black, pleated skirt and black patent stilettoes. She spread her legs, slowly, deliberately, and crooked one finger in beckoning. 

Glenn’s much-remarked-upon age did not stop him from bolting out of his chair, practically tripping over himself in his need to get to her. Chloe wrapped her legs around him as he pinned her against the desk, his erection thrust against her now bare pussy. Although the idea had been to grant him a classic fantasy in return for not being a complete bastard – a bit like some sort of sexual Samaritan – she was pleased to find the whole thing was turning her on significantly too. It was something to have a man literally praying under his breath while he gripped her arse with a fervour strong enough to leave marks, and lowered his face to her chest like it was an oasis in the desert.

His trousers slipped all the way down, leaving his pale, hairy legs on show. It seemed like as good a sign as any. She reached for the waistband of his Y-fronts, pushing them down to let him spring free. Knowing how sex-starved he by all accounts was, this wasn’t likely to take long, so she wasted no time in taking him in hand to get things going.

“No – no condom,” he mumbled into her naked breasts, mouth stumbling wetly across her nipples. 

“I’m on the pill. All set, senior adviser Cullen,” she replied, smiling above his bobbing grey head. And guided him in, to which he responded with a heartfelt exclamation in a rarely-heard tone.

“Oh, FUCK!”

He wasted no time in thrusting into her, his fingers digging into her buttocks as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She’d started this, and he’d been understandably tentative at first, but now he’d grabbed hold of his chance like this was the answer to every one of his solitary late-night prayers. Chloe was very quickly being jolted up and down on his desk, breasts bouncing against his still-clothed chest, legs splayed wide, as Glenn rammed into her time and time again. It was almost alarming. All she could do was hang on for dear life and try to catch her breath between all the times he tried to snog her face off.

Against all her expectations at the beginning of the night, she soon began to feel that warm tightness building within her. His groping hands and hungry mouth seemed to be everywhere, trying to touch and take in all of her at once, while she could practically count the years of repressed passion as every thrust hit home. He’d shot from tentative, disbelieving, gulping nerves to all-conquering, frenzied lust, and she was its sole object. 

It was a pretty classic-to-the-point-of-cliché office fantasy, and maybe that was why it was working: the sexy intern seducing an elderly superior and getting more than she bargained for. She was, bluntly, getting shagged senseless by Glenn Cullen, of all people, and every jolt of pleasure as he slammed her on his office desk was taking her closer and closer, until … 

Chloe’s orgasm hit her like a wall of sensation, immediately dissolving into almost violent spasms that rocked her whole body and made her grunt out loud, rather inelegantly. She clung onto Glenn’s warm, slightly wrinkly neck like a tree in a hurricane, riding out a succession of mini starbursts of pleasure on each of his increasingly more urgent thrusts, gasping hotly into his ear.

When Glenn himself came quite shortly thereafter, it was with a huge, bellowing growl.

“Good God of fucking - BALLS!” 

His whole body shuddered violently against hers, as he clutched her arse so hard she saw stars, moaning into her neck, his red face hot and sweaty against her skin, rocking her back and forth on his desktop mousepad as he thrust over and over inside her. Chloe, still a little dizzy from her own climax, could only hang onto his shoulders and hope he didn’t drop her on her back in his rapture. Or have a heart attack.

Slowly, gradually, he stopped heaving, the breaths he was panting out quietened and slowed, and his hold on her relaxed. She found herself sitting on his broad upturned palms, holding gently onto his still slightly trembly shoulders. 

The silence had just began to stretch out when Glenn finally raised his head back up and looked at her. An array of emotions shifted between each other on his face: awe, pride, gratitude, embarrassment, lingering arousal. He cleared his throat, “Um, well, first of all, of course, thank you. That was very decent of you. Very decent indeed.” 

Chloe fought back a slightly manic giggle at the word. He had shagged her on his desk and was literally still inside her; she wiggled her hips a bit to draw attention to that. Glenn grinned at that, bashfully and totally genuinely: a rare smile like sunshine on his rainy-afternoon face. He was very close, so she kissed him, and he kissed her back, intensely but almost reverently this time, before slipping out of her at last, drawing up his underwear and then his trousers.

She was still sitting quite comfortably in nothing but her creased skirt, dangling her legs off his desk, as he fastened his belt. 

“You know this can’t be a thing,” Chloe began. 

Glenn looked at her with gentle amusement, not a hint of offence on his wry face. “I would never have expected otherwise. You’re young, you’re savvy, you're ... well, a lot of pretty amazing things. You can take the world by the bollocks, not one broken-down old man. Just - go out and be better than the world. Don’t become it, or you’ll regret it. Take it from me.”

“I just did,” she teased, and he blushed a little, with pride. “Listen, Glenn. This can’t be a thing. Not really. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I will very likely meet someone at some point, and so could you, so don’t say you’re broken, because I can tell you you’re not. You’re less broken than anyone else here.”

She continued. “And when you do meet someone, you need to grab the chance like you grabbed it tonight, but even harder if that’s possible, and don’t let go for me or for anyone or for anything. However … if I’m ever around DoSAC again,” they both grimaced reflexively, “and you don’t have a someone, and I don’t have a someone, and we’re both a little lonely one night … well.” Chloe reached for the BlackBerry on his desk, and typed in a number.

“Let me know.” She kissed his cheek, softly, and held his hands for a moment. Then she quickly picked up her discarded clothes from the floor, and walked to the ladies’ loo to get dressed and go home, collecting her handbag and goodbye card from her desk on the way.

Glenn watched her go, leaning slightly against his still-warm desk. He was unable to keep a small but completely and utterly real smile from his lips. Despite her words and despite the fact he would obviously be delighted to see her again, in any context, he knew this night had been almost certainly a one-off. And he, thought, he was fine with that - because if this could happen, then literally anything could. 

Had anyone, even the most self-absorbed political operator, observed the scene, they might have picked up a handful of emotions almost entirely alien within the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, and never before recorded together on Glenn Cullen's face.

Happiness. Peace. And a little bit of hope for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe I wrote Glenn Cullen porn. Please be kind if you comment!


End file.
